


let love flower

by thisstableground



Series: less than ninety degrees [12]
Category: Do No Harm (TV), In the Heights - Miranda/Hudes
Genre: (that's dom vanessa/sub ruben), Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 18:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21183878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisstableground/pseuds/thisstableground
Summary: Usnavi's having bodega problems, Vanessa's having Vanessa's Dysfunctional Family problems, Ruben's being morally supportive and unacceptably sexy, and meanwhile they've all fallen in capital-L Love so...busy week, overall.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: NSFW because blowjobs.

Sometimes Usnavi thinks he might be boring. It’s Friday. Most people his age are out partying right now. Vanessa, for one, who’s gone out with some girls from work and has been sending pictures to Usnavi and Ruben all night. She’s wearing an indescribable low-cut black dress, and all the photos are increasingly blurred and increasingly tantalizing: there’s one shot she sends from the cubicle of a club bathroom that makes Ruben actually drop his phone.

Usnavi and Ruben, on the other hand, are spending the night eating takeout on the sofa to a Brooklyn 99 marathon, and are both in pajamas by 10 PM. Ruben’s not much into the party life, and Usnavi’s had a long week. A long couple of weeks, actually.

It’s been a long time since he found it this difficult, working the bodega. The only other time he’s been this sort of can't-shake-it tired was just after his parents- but even then, he was glad to have so many relatively mindless tasks to do. It was a good way to not think, carefully cleaning already-clean counters and straightening the products on the shelves into obsessive, perfectly parallel formations.

Now, the opposite: it feels like every night for the past few weeks he feels so _done_ long before his shift finishes, trying to muster the energy to do the cleaning and inventory and preparation for the next day. He knows he isn’t old, that twenty-five is barely starting his life, and he’s the one who made the choice to stay here but he can’t shake the restless feeling now whenever he’s at work that he’s missing something.

Where else could he be but the store, though? Vanessa’s working for her fancy fashion magazine and Ruben’s at the college. It probably isn’t either of their forever plans. Vanessa still doesn’t know what she wants to be, but she likes the freedom of leaving her life unchained from too many concrete decisions, she’s got the confidence to fling herself off cliffs knowing that she’ll fly every time. Ruben was born to change the world, already looking into manufacturing a new prototype of his Blackout drug and they’ve not quite found a way to deal with the Jason of it all that’ll come with actually selling it, but apparently there’s a _lot_ of buzz in the science community already. There’s no doubt that that both of them are going places.

And Usnavi is going…back to work tomorrow, again. His life’s been a series of too-early mornings since he was eighteen years old. It’s Sonny’s last year of high school, so he’s cut his hours to focus on school and college applications and all, and he refuses to start at six thirty. Usnavi doesn’t begrudge him but it’s a big workload to shoulder alone. Okay, he doesn’t _need_ to start at six thirty either. But they’ve always opened at that time, and he doesn’t want standards to slip.

It’s a bigger problem than just the hours, the same thing that got him so close to hopping on a plane a few years back. It’s the anxiety of looking over his too-small profit every week, the loneliness of his store left behind when everyone else moved on. It’s the weight of so many legacies, his parents and Abuela and the slowly dying neighborhood. More than half the faces he serves these days he doesn’t recognize, an interchangeable bunch of semi-successful white dudes moved here because it’s cheap but they heard it’s up-and-coming and they wanna get in on it early. They’re mostly polite, though there’s a few of them who he’d be happy to never see again, but even the nice ones aren’t the sort to stop and get to know whoever’s giving them their coffee. It isn’t their home here, just the place they live.

This isn’t the way it was when Mama and Pai ran the place. Usnavi isn’t doing anything anymore an automatic coffee machine couldn’t do faster and without getting tired, which he really is. He’s so fucking beat that during dinner he started nodding off into his kung pao chicken and almost impaled himself on a chopstick. Ruben had rescued his dangerously-tipping plate and given him a narrow-eyed, searching look that Usnavi had tried to ignore.

They’ve been cuddling on the sofa with his head pillowed on Ruben’s shoulder since they finished eating, and after about the sixteenth time Usnavi jerks awake and nearly headbutts him, Ruben prods him in the cheek and said “time for bed, I think?”

Usnavi mumbles an incoherent agreement but even though he’s barely able to move his arm to brush his teeth, once he’s lying in the dark with Ruben already asleep beside him somehow all the energy he was looking for earlier backflips through the door and dropkicks him directly in the nervous system.

He shifts around as subtly as possible trying to get comfortable, then he cracks each of his knuckles individually, then he tries not to think about how much he wants to crack his knuckles again because otherwise he’ll be stuck doing that in a loop for the next god knows how long, except now the urge is stuck in his mind so _not _doing it will bother him just as much. Lying on his side like usual is suddenly intolerable so he rolls over to his back, then his stomach, then changes his mind and lies on his back again, then he throws the pillow onto the floor because it feels all wrong and he’s mad at it for not helping him out, here.  
  
“Usnavi,” says Ruben. “What the fuck are you doing?”  
  
Oops. Usnavi hadn’t meant to wake him. “I’m tired,” he explains, though he’s not sure if that’ll make it make sense. He’s started shaking his foot back and forth just to dispel some of the build-up but now he can’t seem to stop. It’s probably really irritating. Vanessa always refuses to sleep in the same bed with him when he gets like this.  
  
“Sure seems like it,” says Ruben, raising an eyebrow at Usnavi’s twitching leg.

“Can’t sleep,” Usnavi says, mournfully. This is one of his least favorite moods, whenever it creeps back around. He’s never known what to call it. It’s the feeling of staying up all night and replacing sleep with caffeine. It’s the feeling of still being hyped but way too aware that a crash is about to come any minute. It’s almost like boredom but more visceral, more physical, an itch like someone’s rubbing handfuls of sand into his skin. He _hates_ it.

“I’m _tired_, Ruben,” he says again, desperately. It’s kinda embarrassing for a guy in his mid-twenties to sound so much like he got woke up from naptime too early, but whatever. A feeling adjacent to pain keeps travelling intermittently down his spine and he arches up a little off the bed, trying to make it stop.

Ruben makes a deeply sympathetic sound like he gets it, and then says, “I know something that can help with that, if you’re interested.”

“Hit me with it.”

In one of those sudden, startling moments of forwardness that he sometimes springs on them, Ruben rolls into Usnavi, sliding both hands down the back of his pajama pants to grab his ass and pull him into a deep and fucking _filthy_ kiss. Usnavi can feel Ruben’s dick twitch against him even through their sleep clothes and his own responds similarly, so that he can’t help but grind a little into it.

“Dios mío, Ruben,” he says breathlessly when they break apart. “I mean, _awesome_, but that did the exact opposite of making me sleepy.”

“It will,” says Ruben. “Trust me. I’m a doctor.” And he slides down Usnavi’s body to settle between his legs.

***

If Usnavi thought his nerves were all singing before that's nothing compared to how this feels, but it’s nothing so discordant as insomnia: Ruben’s hands holding onto his hips and Ruben’s mouth around him and his _tongue, _god, it’s that clear and ringing feeling like hitting all the right notes in a harmony.

Usnavi’s learnt a thing or two since they’ve been dating but Ruben is no question the best of them at this, and it’s only made better by how he seems to like giving it as much as Usnavi likes being on the receiving end. Even in the dark bedroom Usnavi can see how hard Ruben is through his boxers, and the way his cheeks have flushed with excitement. Usnavi tries to hold himself back from pushing too much, but Ruben just slips his hands underneath him to pull him upwards and take him deeper, almost all the way down, hollowing his cheeks with a defiant set to his eyebrows like he wants to prove he’s up to the challenge.

They’d been extremely careful with Ruben when this whole thing had first started, soft touches and light hands, and even then they’ve had some seriously unpleasant surprises while they figure out what really isn’t okay. But they’ve also had some very good surprises, like that maybe careful isn’t always the way to go, like the time Vanessa forgot herself and pulled hard on Ruben’s hair while he was going down on her. Ruben had made a shattered sound and come immediately, completely untouched. So _that_ whole vibe is something they’ve been exploring, albeit very tentatively.

Usnavi winds his fingers through Ruben’s hair now right down at the roots, and doesn’t quite pull but tightens his hands into fists. The drawn-out humming noise Ruben makes in response feels beyond amazing, and Usnavi’s this close to closing his eyes and revelling in the sensation but he’s glad he didn’t because then he’d have missed the sight of Ruben slipping his hand into his own boxers with another muffled whine. God.

“Ruben,” he says. “Can I see you?”

Not _I want to see you_ and definitely not ever _let me see you_, this is something Usnavi _asks_ for, because no matter how much fun they’re having sometimes the answer is no. But Ruben pulls off and strips off his shirt without hesitation and even though Usnavi’s probably never entirely going to stop noticing all those heartbreaking little white paths that wind all round his body, he’s mostly just thinking that Ruben is fucking beautiful always and in these sudden moments of unselfconsciousness, something else entirely.

Ruben taking off his boxers, sitting in front of Usnavi and touching himself almost shyly at first, a ghosting stroke before he takes a proper grip and writhes a little with the feeling. There’s something about it that Usnavi can’t get enough of. It’s hot as hell when Vanessa touches herself - it’s hot as hell when Vanessa does anything - but with Ruben, Usnavi’s fascinated by it to a point where its probably almost weird. He has been from the start. It’s about the confidence it takes to do such a private thing while someone watches. It’s about Ruben actually making himself feel good without second-guessing it.

It’s also about Ruben’s clever, pretty hands and the curve of his dick and the way he doesn’t just touch himself, he moves his whole body into pleasure with his hips and his legs and the hungry, wanting look on his face.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Usnavi says, and Ruben shudders happily, spreads his legs further apart and moves faster. “You’re _amazing_.” He really is, and it’s almost unbearable for Usnavi to watch this when nobody’s touching him. When he goes to reach for his own dick Ruben leans over and gently moves his hand away, eyes intense, looking at Usnavi through his charcoal lashes.

“Oh, you fuckin’ _tease_,” Usnavi says, delighted, “and here I thought you were gonna be nice to me.”

“I am being nice to you,” says Ruben, his voice dark and dancing. “You like it when I do this.”

“I do,” Usnavi agrees. “I like it even more when you suck me off at the same time. Just a suggestion.”

Ruben makes a non-committal sound and moves so he’s hovering above Usnavi on his knees and one hand, lips almost on him but not quite. He flickers a glance up at Usnavi’s face.  
  
“Please?” asks Usnavi. He ain’t above begging if he has to, but Ruben gives in immediately and Usnavi’s lost in the heat of his mouth, and the sight of him pushing into his own hand desperately with the same rhythm, and the indistinct little keening noises he’s making - fuck, he’s so fucking _hot_, this isn’t gonna last long at all.  
  
“Ruben,” he gasps, “I’m gonna come, fuck, god, _yes_, how are you so _good_ at this-“ and then he’s there and Ruben keeps going til he’s done, one last swipe of his tongue as he pulls off sending shivers through Usnavi’s oversensitized system. Ruben straddles his legs, leaning forwards, and it only takes a few fast and frantic strokes before he slows down and finishes hot all over Usnavi’s stomach and his own fingers. They stay there looking at each other in heavy breathing silence until Ruben moves his hand and grimaces at the stickiness. He rolls himself off the bed and heads to the bathroom to clean up.

Usnavi shamelessly eyes Ruben’s ass as he leaves but once the door closes behind him a sudden sleepiness rushes through him. No trace of the pseudocaffeinated jitters now, just a fuzzy light lifting feeling and, juxtaposed, the heaviness of his eyelids. He lets them fall closed, undignified sprawled out naked and still covered in come but he doesn’t care. Ruben breathes a laugh when he comes back in.

“Alright, _Doctor Marcado,_ don’t be so fuckin’ smug about it,” Usnavi grumbles, wriggling slightly as Ruben swipes a damp cloth over his stomach and hits a ticklish point. “You were right. Hey, can I get that on a repeat prescription or something? Because damn.”

“I don’t know about that, I’m worried you’ll develop a dependency,” says Ruben, drying Usnavi off with his discarded t-shirt and crawling back into bed. Usnavi’s definitely about to say something witty in response but he loses it in a yawn, and loses the end of the yawn in the blurring black edges of falling asleep.

***

Usnavi sleeps and sleeps and sleeps and wakes up still exhausted in an empty bed, which is weird, and it’s incredibly bright outside which is weirder.

It takes way too long for his eyes to actually remember out how to read the clock but when he does - fuck! – it’s seven fifteen. Usnavi is so, _so_ late. This never happens. It’s long ingrained in him to wake up early and he sets two alarms every day just in case and if nothing else Ruben surely would’ve got him up, but no time to worry about it now. He drags himself out of bed feeling like dead weight as he gets dressed in record time. Worst start to the day. God knows where his hat is, he’ll have to go without it which he hates, and he doesn’t have time for breakfast and probably one of the jumped-up dudes in a pretending-to-be-expensive suit has left a bitchy note on the door because Usnavi wasn’t there to give him his soulless café for his soulless commute to his soulless job on time. He’s still so tired: his vision greys out at the edges as he runs down the back stairs but only a tiny bit so it’s not a problem.

Usnavi tumbles through the back entrance haphazardly, hoping like hell he left the keys to the grate under the counter when he has the truly unsettling experience of seeing a small latino dude with a beard and a flat cap already stood behind the counter. He almost trips over himself, wondering if he’s somehow already opened the store and _wait_ _is he a ghost now?!_ except then his eyes actually focus properly and it's Ruben with his cute, closed-mouth smile that scrunches his nose up just slightly. Usnavi is a. relieved that he’s not having an out-of-body experience and also b. inexplicably a bit turned on by Ruben wearing his hat? That’s one to put a pin in for later.

“Hey, hermoso, what’s this? You tryna steal my identity?” he says as he approaches, tapping the brim of the cap upward so he can see Ruben’s eyes better. “Always knew you was up to no good, Marcado.”  
  
“You caught me,” says Ruben. “I only want you for your bodega. Didn’t you get my note?”

“What note?”

“The one I left on the table by your bed, explaining that I was gonna hold down the store till Sonny came in and that _you_ were gonna stay in bed and sleep in on a weekend for once in your goddamn life.” Ruben puts a hand to Usnavi’s cheek, brushing a thumb over one of the dark circles under Usnavi’s eyes with an unhappy look. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground. Vanessa’s worried too.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Usnavi insists. “Never better. On top of my game.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” says Ruben. “But you forgot half your shirt.”  
  
Usnavi blinks down at his chest, bare underneath his open button-down. It’s true. “…I feel like this is really gonna undercut any argument I try and make now.”

“Yep,” says Ruben. “Look, Sonny’s in at eight, and it isn't even busy. Please just go back up? I’ll come join you when I’m done.”

Usnavi can’t resist that _please _and he’s pretty sure Ruben knows it. He doesn’t argue, but he does take out his phone to snap a quick picture of Ruben in his hat before kissing him on the cheek and turning to leave. Except, wait-

“Hey, but can I ask, why the hat? Hoping customers wouldn’t realize you ain’t me?”

“No,” Ruben says. “Though I’m pretty sure some of them we could just draw a beard on Vanessa and they wouldn’t notice the difference, so that probably happened at least once.” He hesitates. “Promise not to laugh if I tell you?”

“Of course.”  
  
“Well, uh. I wanted to let you rest but the whole customer thing, it feels kind of – uhm. Exposed? People are one thing when I’m in school, class isn’t so one-to-one and I know what I’m doing there, but it’s been a long time since I worked a job like this. I always sucked at customer jobs even when I was a teenager.” He pulls the hat down a little lower. “It felt like an extra layer of protection, I guess. From people looking at me. And it reminded me of you, so it sort of made it easier to channel your vibe when I was wearing it. I know that’s dumb.”  
  
“It ain't dumb at all,” murmurs Usnavi. He can’t speak any louder round the big, stupid, glowing feeling in his chest. “But if you don’t feel comfortable-“  
  
“Usnavi, I’ve been here all morning, I can manage another half hour,” says Ruben, exasperated. “And if you don’t leave now I’m gonna have to go cook up a of sample of Blackout, if that’s what it takes to make you slow down. Don’t think I won’t. I can be _very_ unethical.”  
  
“Fine, fine, I’m goin',” Usnavi gripes.

***

**usnavi:**  
\- ruben stole my store from me  
\- he wont let me go to work

**vanessa:****  
**\- good

**usnavi:**  
\- ¿betrayal??¿¡from all sides!?  
\- he also took my hat  
\- [imintoit.jpg]

**vanessa:**  
\- god hes so cute  
\- once i stop dying ima come over and kiss all up on both of your dumb faces

**usnavi:  
**\- idk if i wanna be kissed by a TRAITOR

**vanessa:**  
\- shut up and get some fucking rest  
\- you look worse than i do and my body is still 70% tequila rn

**usnavi:  
**\- you cant even see me??

**vanessa:**  
\- yeah but am i wrong tho  
\- now pls be quiet im so hungover and youre so loud  
\- te amo <3

**usnavi  
**\- <3

***

So maybe he’s kinda glad to skip work after all because once Vanessa stops texting back, Usnavi spends the next twenty minutes lying face-down on his bed and dozing warmly in a sunbeam of morning light. It’s nice. He can’t be bothered to get undressed.

When Ruben comes back he vaguely hears him say "oh, Usnavi_",_ fond and troubled. Usnavi raises a hand in greeting and lets it flop heavily back onto the bed because it was taking far too much effort to hold it up. He can feel Ruben untying his shoes for him and slipping them off, before the mattress sinks under his weight. Usnavi lets himself roll into Ruben’s waiting arms with a contented, sleepy sigh.

Ruben draws incomprehensible shapes against the back of Usnavi’s neck with his fingers in that thoughtful, distracted way Usnavi loves, gearing up to say something.

“What’s going on, Usnavi?” he finally asks. “This isn’t like you. We really are worried about you. We were hoping it was just a temporary thing but it’s been a couple of weeks…”  
  
Oh, he hates that they’ve noticed enough to actually sit and talk about it. Really he should know better by now: Usnavi has never, ever been good at keeping things on the DL, no matter how subtle he thinks he’s being.

“Things have been busier,” he says. “With Sonny working less and all. And the store... ain't doin' great, financially. But it’s fine, honestly.”

He gets why they’re concerned. But it’s not the worst thing, if Usnavi’s a little bit worn out, he can handle it.  
  
The expression on Ruben’s face suggests otherwise. “You could hire someone else. Or cut back your hours. You’re gonna burn out if you keep working like this and I’ve seen enough of that to know it’s not a quick road to come back from. You don’t need to push yourself like this.”

Usnavi snorts. “Ruben, I’m barely breaking even. There ain't much _choice_. Honestly, even if Sonny still wanted to work weekdays I couldn’t afford to pay him, and now the fridge needs replaced and the grate’s fucked again and…it’s just pretty much over, I think. Not for a month, a couple months, maybe, but soon, and it’s been a long time coming.”

He hasn’t properly admitted that even to himself til now, but as soon as he says it there’s a strange kind of relief, like he’s just been waiting to acknowledge the inevitable.

“Jesus, Usnavi. I didn’t know things were that bad,” Ruben says. “Why didn’t you _say_ something? If you need money, I could -“

“No,” says Usnavi, and ignores Ruben starting to protest. “_No_. You might have savings but you ain’t got the Blackout dollar yet, you ain't a millionaire. And honestly, it’s a lost cause. It’s fine, it’s time. You’re right, I shoulda said. I just…I hate that it’s such a, an undignified way for it to go. Everything falling apart and everyone leaving it behind. My- um, my parents would’ve been sad to see it this way, I think.”

Ruben tightens his hold on Usnavi a little and presses one leg between Usnavi’s til he shifts and they’re completely wrapped around each other, but he doesn’t say anything. That’s fine. Usnavi doesn’t need much encouraging to talk anyway, he’s been ignoring this too long and now he’s got the chance to think aloud he’s not gonna miss it.

“They worked so hard for this store. Up and open at six thirty every day ever since I can remember. We never had much money but they loved every bit of this place and it all showed. I done my best to keep things running like how they had it but it’s at least a two person job. And its not as…satisfying, as it used to be. It’s hard to run a place with love when everything’s busted and you’re mostly serving strangers who’re just waiting for the place to get turned into a Starbucks. That’s why I get tired more now, I guess.” He sighs, disconsolate. “It’s just weird to think that it’s ending. And it woulda been nice to finish on a high note, that Mamá and Pai coulda been proud of, and I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about any of it. So…that’s what’s goin' on.”

“I know I didn’t know your parents,” says Ruben quietly, sounding like he’s choosing his words very carefully. “But I think they’d be very proud of you. How could they not be? Look at you.”

Usnavi flushes at the earnestness. “I hope so. I tried to be the kind of person they raised me to be. I mean, I’m just the bodega guy, I know it ain’t like I’m inventing no life-changing drug -“

“Don’t do that,” says Ruben sharply. “Don’t you _dare_. You work harder than anyone I’ve ever known. And don’t act like this is less important than what I do. The jerks you serve now might not see it but do you know how many of the stories I’ve heard from people who’ve been here for years that are always about here, how much of their lives happened with this place right at the centre? Do you know how much of a difference it made to _me_? You changed _my_ fucking life. You and Vanessa both, but it’s all because I met you and you were so kind to me even though I was a total stranger and you didn’t have to be. You’ve never needed to put so much into what you do. You just do it because that’s how you are. And that’s amazing, and your parents _would_ be proud, and I’m proud of you too.” Ruben’s out of breath at the end, and hides his face against Usnavi’s neck like he surprised himself with the outburst.  
  
Usnavi is not crying. He _isn’t_.

“I am sorry, though. About the store,” adds Ruben, looking up again and thumbing a tear off Usnavi’s cheek.

“It’s okay,” says Usnavi, a little damply. “I knew it was gonna happen sooner or later, even back when I decided to not go to DR and stay here. Even almost sold it once more, probably a couple months before you showed up. Had people looking around, got an offer and everything. But I turned it down last-minute.”

“What made you stay?”

Pacencia y fe_: _both times he nearly left, it was seeing that grate with Abuela’s face smiling out in spraypaint and somehow knowing he wasn’t finished with this place yet. Playa Rincón will be there in a year, in ten years. The rest of NYC or the world or wherever he’s gonna end up could wait too. There were things still to be done, even if he hadn’t found out what they were at that point.

Patience. Faith. He feels like maybe Abuela knew, one last thing she did for him to make sure his life kept going down the right path.  
  
“Waiting for you,” he answers, and Ruben’s breath catches.

“Sorry I took so long,” he says.

Usnavi yawns in response, which isn't what he meant to say but he can't help it.  
  
“Sleep, Usnavi,” says Ruben, with a long,pleading kiss.  
  
“Okay,” he replies, and he really does try, lying against Ruben and closing his eyes, but he’s got too many thoughts keeping him awake. 

He knows Ruben worries that he asks too much of Usnavi and Vanessa, with the flashbacks and the triggers and the days where he just hurts in a million ways with no real reason for it. And yeah, it’s a lot. It can be so draining, it’s just fucking awful to watch, but it doesn’t feel like an unbalanced deal at all because Ruben puts his all into everything he gives back to them. Ruben’s been through the worst stuff he can imagine and still gets that sad, worried little crease between his eyes just because Usnavi has been kind of tired for a couple weeks. Ruben invented a drug that, when he described it to the head of some big fancy science facility while looking for funding, Usnavi could hear her on the other end of the call say _holy crap, are you for **real?!**_, and he still genuinely doesn’t seem to see anything less important about what Usnavi does. Whenever they’re feeling bad, Ruben tangles all his limbs around them like his hands aren’t enough to keep them safe from whatever’s getting them down so he’ll be a full body shield if he has to. He’ll kiss Usnavi hard and generous like it might let him leave a little of his own life lingering on Usnavi’s lips so that he’s got some spare for emergencies.

It’s so much.

“I love you,” Usnavi says. Ruben makes a soft startled noise. He didn’t realize he was gonna say it, didn’t even really realize he felt it. But everything about Ruben’s been catching him by surprise since the beginning so why break tradition now? And he meant it, there’s no doubt about that. He kisses Ruben’s forehead.

“I love you,” he says again, because he wants it to be on purpose this time.

Ruben doesn’t say it back, but he takes Usnavi’s hand and pulls it to his chest where they’re never supposed to touch, his own resting on top of it, and Usnavi can feel the words in the heartbeat under his palm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: another smut chapter. This one has some very gentle/affectionate dom/sub vibes, and also a little bit of sex choking - all extremely consenting and careful, though it deals a little with Ruben's PTSD emotions too.

It reminds her a little of the time just after the De la Vegas passed away. Not the immediate searing aftermath where Usnavi was a wreck and all the rest of them would sometimes be seized with uncontrollable fear in the middle of the day, sending frantic texts to their parents just to make sure they were still there.

The illness came on fast. They had been so _alive_ just a short while before

Not that part, but the part where weeks had turned into months and Vanessa, Benny and Nina would gather in the kitchen at the Rosario’s and desperately try to come up with ways to make Usnavi smile again. It had been terrifyingly long since they’d seen him happy (he’d been so alive just a short while before).

He came back to them eventually, of course, beautiful and brighter than ever. But now, her motor-mouth boy Usnavi all quieted down, blinking slow and sleepy in the middle of the day, his already clumsy hands dropping things more often like he just forgets he’s holding them, standing too still in front of shelves with his face distant and not doing whatever it was he went over there for. Every time it happens she catches troubled eyes with Ruben behind Usnavi’s back and knows he’s seeing it too. They talk and talk when Usnavi isn’t there and their only solution so far is _wait it out_, and that ain't working great for them.

It’s a familiar feeling and she hates it. She can’t break down the wall around whatever Usnavi feels about his parents or whatever’s going on now, she can’t seal up the hairline fractures that Ruben too often cracks along. Vanessa isn't a patient girl, Vanessa isn't a girl who deals well with feeling useless. She's had her knocks, but nothing like that.

That’s why she doesn’t mention it straight away, a barely-even-anything problem. A minor annoyance at worst. She can handle it, and they’ve got enough to deal with.  


**[Unknown number]**  
Hi, Nessa! I’ve been trying to get in touch, your mom gave me your new number. Why didn’t you tell me you’d changed it? Anyway, I’m back in town again last weekend of the month, so let me take you out for dinner. My treat! You can bring that boy if you’re still dating him. - Dad.

***

“I really wish you’d warned me before you gave him my number,” she says to her mom, who makes a semi-apologetic face as she puts their coffee on the table.  
  
"I couldn’t come up with a good excuse not to,” she says. “But…he _is _your dad. You do have to spend time with him at some point.”  
  
“Easy for you to say, you ain’t gotta do it,” Vanessa mutters. “Why should I waste an evening on him?”

“Because he’s your father. God knows I’m not denying he’s a pendejo, but you don’t wanna look back one day and wish you’d spent more time with the people you love.“

Vanessa doesn’t know how to say that she doesn’t think she loves him. _But he _**_is_**_ your dad_ always seems to be the counter to all her arguments, even from Dani or Nina. Why does family come with this obligation to feel a certain way? She barely knows the guy, and what she does know of him is kind of douchey. Maybe she’s just heartless. There’s people out there whose dads are _terrible_, and they still love them.

She manages to love her mom, for all the troubled water between them. It took some time to fix the rift, after she first moved out, and even now she only visits once a month or so. It hasn’t changed some things: the crosswires of communication where they always seem to spark friction, the constant promises subsequently smashed in another topple off the wagon. Four weeks sober, thanks to AA, and from the looks of it still going strong, but Vanessa can’t say she’s got faith that this will go any longer than any of the other one-month-cleans over the past couple years. Still, her mom is trying, and recently Vanessa’s been learning a new sort of appreciation for the resilience of life-torn weary people to just keep standing up again. Vanessa’s been learning to breathe through the anger instinct before she lets it guide her voice.

There’s nothing of her mom in her relationship with her dad. None of the midnight screaming fights and the drink and the borrowing money and that clawing dependence like something from the ocean depths grabbing her ankle as she swims.  
  
There also isn't the memory of him cussing out the first boy to ever make her cry after she got cheated on, or of the cheap and messy-looking homemade birthday cakes with her name iced on in wobbly purple cursive, or of the unending attempts from both of them to heal over the hurts of their life together.Her mom has always tried, Vanessa’s been coming to realize. It doesn’t erase the things she did that messed Vanessa up, but it makes it easier to see where they might go from here, their bridges building slowly. Her dad is just some dude who rocks up a couple times a year and takes her out for a mediocre dinner while ignoring everything she says. She could find ten of him on any street in this city.

***

Some things aren’t noticeable till they’re gone, like the permanent little crease that had taken up residence between Usnavi’s eyebrows even while he slept. Things like the tight fear in her chest fading out, a tangle working itself loose as she watches him now, napping on his sofa while Ruben makes them dinner. Usnavi’s face is soft, peaceful, just how he’s meant to look.

He’s going to have to sell the bodega, and with it his apartment too. No wonder this whole thing reminded her of when he lost his parents: he has to say goodbye again. But Vanessa and Ruben know what’s going on now, they’ve made him agree to cut down his hours, they’ve told him they’ll help him find his way when he steps into the world outside the store. Even though he’s still too tired, it seems like something’s helping. Vanessa rests her hand on Usnavi’s cheek, and he makes an incoherent sound, but doesn’t wake up.

Ruben comes to the door of the living room and watches them, drying his hands on a towel. There’s too much unvoiced feeling suspended in this one silent moment of all three of them. It’s almost suffocating. She accepts the reprieve when Ruben tilts his head towards the kitchen and she follows him to a less emotionally tense room.

Usnavi told Ruben that he loved him. Ruben doesn’t know she knows. She ism't sure what to make of it, only that maybe that too is why Usnavi looks more like himself these past few days - he runs on love like fuel - and she’s so indescribably grateful for it that she wants to kiss Ruben all over til he’s breathless. She wants to do that most of the time anyway, but even more now.

She settles for just one, a thankful press of lips to the corner of his mouth.

“He seems happier, right?” Ruben asks her, hopeful. “I think he does. When he’s awake, I mean, right now he mostly just seems kind of drooly.”

“He definitely seems happier,” she agrees, and bumps their shoulders, their hips, against each other. “Buen trabajo, Marcado.”

Ruben lights up with pride. “I didn’t actually do a lot. I pretty much just gave him a blowjob then stole his hat.”

“Well, apparently you give blowjobs good enough to cure depression. Forget Blackout, you should market _that_.” She drops into a chair and rests her chin on her fists.

“I’m not giving up science to become a prostitute, Vanessa,” he says, turning to prod something in a pot with a wooden spoon.

“Oh, yeah, that is basically what that would be, ain't it? My bad.”

She watches him licking the spoon and muttering to himself with dancing hands about what seasonings he needs to add. His sleeves are rolled up. He seems content.

It must be hard to deal with normal problems when your benchmark for a bad day is torture, she thinks. Everything so elevated to maximum threat level in his brain. Or maybe it’s a whole lot easier. Forgetting your keys or missing the train probably doesn’t seem like such an issue next to that.

“Hey, Ruben,” she says, hoping this isn’t gonna be another bomb she’s about to set off. “Why d'you never talk about your dad?”

Ruben just gives her a curious look. “Nothing to talk about. I haven’t seen him since I was seven.”

“Oh.”

“Ma tried to contact him for my funeral,” he says, entirely casual like that’s a normal people can say about their own lives. “But, no luck. Not surprised, after that long.”

He doesn’t sound bitter the way Vanessa thinks she would - she already _is_ bitter, and at least her dad shows up every so often, not that she ever actually wants him to. “Don’t that…bother you?”

“That he didn’t go to my funeral? Not really. It would’ve bothered me more if he’d showed up after two decades and pretended to mourn a kid he never wanted.”

“No, I mean that he wasn’t around in general?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I wanted a father, but he clearly wasn’t cut out for it, so if it’s a choice between that _specific_ dad or nothing? Eh. And I always had Ma.” He tips some salt into his hand then carefully adds it in pinches, dusting the excess off on his pants when he’s done.

Ruben never really does subscribe to usual conventions. Probably that’s the reason why she asks “can I tell you a thing if you promise not to tell Usnavi?”

Ruben looks instantly wary. “It’s not a _big_ thing,” she clarifies.

“I’m not gonna promise anything before I know what it is,” he says. “But you can tell me anyway if you like.”

“My dad text me,” she says. “Wants to meet up for dinner at the weekend.”

“Ah. Your tone implies you’re not over the moon about this?”

“I dunno. He’s a tool. But only like, a lowkey one, as far as these things go. Mostly we got nothing to do with each other, but he can’t even commit properly to being an absent father so like twice a year he’ll try to buy my forgiveness with dinner while saying passive-aggressive things about my mom.”

Ruben snorts. “Jeez, father of the year.”

“I should see him though,” she says. “Shouldn’t I?”

“Do you want to?”

“Not especially. But I should.”

Ruben gets that blank and baffled _wait do normal people do this thing differently _face. “Why?”

“Because he’s my dad,” she says.

“…So?”

“So…he’s my dad?”

“What difference does that make? Dads are just people. Not always good ones.”

“He could be so much worse.”

“Isn’t that what people always say to justify a shitty situation?”

Yeah, like year after year slicing her pay in half for her mom with a crawling ache to leave under her skin because _it could be worse_: her mom was just sad, not dangerous, and all the cutting things she said were accidental like being caught under shattering glass instead of directed cruelty. And it still sucked, didn’t it?

“It’s up to you,” Ruben says. “But you shouldn’t ever feel you _have_ to do things for people just because they haven’t treated you as bad as they could have, that’s all I’m saying.”

She didn’t need Ruben’s permission to know she could just back out. The fact he’s on her side makes her feel better anyway.

“I’m gonna do it,” she decides, and he crinkles his eyebrows at her. “No, you’re right, I don’t owe him shit. It’s just that it’s either I do dinner and then I don’t have to think about him for another six months, or I don’t and then I hear about it endlessly from everyone with an opinion on how to family. This is for my sake, not his.”

“Okay,” he says, and she’s glad he doesn’t argue. “But can I ask why you don’t want Usnavi to know?”

“He usually comes with me. Moral support. But he hates it and he’s got enough stress right now, and if I told him he'd insist, so.”

“Vanessa,” Ruben says carefully. “You know your stuff is important too, right?”

“It’s not _as_ important,” she answers. “It ain't on a level with having no parents at all or, y’know, your shit. Like, relatively speaking, this is hardly even a thing.”

He frowns deeply at her. “I’m not sure we _should_ speak relatively. Our scale is messed up. If it makes you feel bad, even a little bit, it’s important.”

Vanessa shrugs uncomfortably.

“I could come with you,” he says, turning away and straightening all the spice jars to busy his hands. “I-I mean, only if you wanted, and I don’t know how you’d want to explain about Usnavi, or if I’d even be any use, but just, if you didn’t want to go by yourself, I could…do that.”

So much for escaping from emotions in this room, there’s such a twisting feeling in her heart right now. They both know he’d hate doing this as much as Usnavi does. “I don’t wanna drag you into my stupid family drama.”

_“_Tu drama es mi drama,” he replies. ‘I want to help, if you want me there. Just say the word.”

“Fine. Ruben Marcado, will you do me the honor of spending an uncomfortable evening in a kind of decent restaurant with me and my asshole dad?”

“Yes, a thousand times yes,” he says, dryly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

***

It was decided fairly into dating early that, since Ruben was coming in solo to an established couple, they didn't want him to feel like they were the real relationship with Ruben as an added extra. That’s how the individual date nights with him became a regular thing. It comes in useful now, a reason to go out alone without having to explain about Vanessa’s dad to Usnavi.

“Oh, _wow_, hello,” says Ruben as he opens the door to let Vanessa into his apartment. “You look good.”

Usnavi is there, clattering around in the kitchen listening to Calle 13. She yells a greeting and he returns it then falls straight back to rapping along top volume without missing a step. It’s such a relief that he’s back to normal.

“I’m nearly ready. Come through.”

She lounges against the wall of the bedroom while Ruben scrutinizes his reflection. He does his top button up, then undoes it again and nods decisively at himself with a look on his face like he’s about to go to war, not dinner.

“Oh, _snap_, would you look at that,” comes a voice from the doorway. Usnavi is leaning into the room with an adoring look on his face. He reaches out to Vanessa as he enters the room and twirls her like they’re dancing, then takes Ruben’s hand and brings it to his lips. “Mi hermoso novio, mi preciosa novia_,_ how does one boy get so lucky twice over? You both look stunning. Behave yourselves tonight.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” asks Vanessa

“Well then, at least make sure to tell me all the sordid details. I’ll leave you to it.”

They both kiss Usnavi goodbye and he walks to the door backwards, blowing kisses, full of sunshine. Ruben shoots a look at Vanessa once they hear him leave the apartment.

“We’ll tell him,” she reassures him. “It’s just that you know how he cares way too hard about everything, and he’s doin' so much better right now. We can do something nice afterwards so it counts as real date night if that makes you feel less bad.”

“Right,” Ruben says dubiously. It’s a mild evening and he’s looking lovely in a light grey button down but he pulls at it unhappily. “Maybe I should wear a sweater.”

“Are you nervous?” Vanessa asks. “Don’t be. It ain't like he’s gonna be a big part of your life. And his opinion on my men means jack-shit, he don’t even like Usnavi.”

Ruben scowls ferociously. “What? Why? _How?”_

“Because Usnavi ain’t moved in with me, and also because he don’t think working a bodega counts as a real job.”

“Well. _That’s_ fucking stupid. I thought living alone was your choice?”

“It was. My dad thinks it's just he wasn’t manly enough about how he asked, or something. _All girls want a man who can provide, Usnavi, she’ll give in once you prove that you can take care of her.”_

Ruben makes what can only be described as a yuck-face, complete with tongue sticking out. ”Oh, ew. I’m pretty sure _she’ll give in_ should never be any part of relationship advice.”

“Right? So it’s dumb to be nervous. He’s a jerk.”

“I can’t help it, I have this pathological need for people to like me. Even when they’re jerks.” He looks contemplative. “Maybe especially when they’re jerks.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re gonna get an unhealthy crush on my dad? Because that’s a dealbreaker, babe,” she says. He shoves her gently, she shoves him back. “Come on. Time to face doom.”

***

Doom is overstating it. Mostly it goes exactly as she expected.

Her dad is already at the restaurant when they enter and stands up from the table to greet them. She lets him kiss her cheek.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Nessa. Hey…is that Usnavi?” her dad squints at Ruben. “I never can tell which boy you’ve brought with you.”

Like she’s not been with the same guy for almost three years, but whatever. “No. Dad, this is Ruben."

“Hi, Ruben. Ben García.” He holds out his hand to shake and Ruben just looks at it in panic. _Shit_, she’d totally forgot, and she can’t think of a smooth cover before her dad raises his eyebrows and pulls his hand back saying, “or not, I guess,” under his breath. Ruben’s mouth twists worriedly.

“Ruben’s a doctor,” Vanessa says as they sit. She hates having to use that as a bargaining chip to ease the tension but it’s all she can think of. It works on one side at least, if the approving expression on her dad’s face is anything to go by.

“Really? What kind of doctor?”

Ruben rubs a hand across his arm, staring hard down at the table. It was a bad idea, bringing him along. Vanessa tries to telepathically radiate an apology. “Chemist,” he says, whisper-quiet, then clears his throat. “I’m a chemist. Mostly teaching at college, but I'm working on my own research part-time too."

“That’s very impressive,” her dad says, and Ruben just nods. 

***

Pretty much the evening stays at that level of shitty.It’s nothing. It’s no big deal. It’s not your parents dying or your father not even showing up when the world thinks you’re dead. It’s not the people she used to know who came to school with bruises round their arms, the people who spoke with someone else’s voice to call themselves worthless even years after they got out. She's got perspective.

It’s only her saying that yeah, she still works in fashion and her dad saying “I always knew the looks would get you far! She gets that from my side,” he tells Ruben, who laughs a little uncertainly, glancing between the two of them.

“I work in the office,” she corrects him, even though she’s explained this to him at least three times before. “I manage our division’s social media presence.”

“Aha! Facebooking for money. I hear you. Easy work if you can get it, right?”

Facebook, yeah. And she manages the Twitter feed and the Instagram and she’s the one who found a connection via Ruben’s colleague at the college to fix up all the code on the main website and make it sleek as fuck. She writes copy and answers the endless reader questions across all the platforms. She keeps up with all the stupid buzzwords and fads to maximize their visibility, she researches and reaches out to the charities they partner with, she seeks out independent artists to be spotlighted. She even gets the goddamn coffee because she’s the youngest in the office and the job automatically fell to her, and a million other small responsibilities. It’s not gonna win her a Pulitzer or change the world or anything, Vanessa knows _that, _and it's not her dream job either, but she’s busy and she’s good at it and she works hard.

“Yeah, pretty much just Facebooking for money,” she says, heavy with sarcasm. Ruben hooks his foot around hers so their legs press together.

***

It’s pouring her second glass of wine and her dad saying “careful, taking after your mother there!”

Vanessa pointedly downs half the glass in one then says “Mom’s in treatment, actually. A month clean. She’s doin' great.”

“If it sticks. Tenth time's the charm, maybe,” he says with a sardonic raised eyebrow. Which, yeah, Vanessa’s thought it herself, but like he has any _right_. Like he was there for any of it. Vanessa remembers being fifteen, with her mom crying over their unpaid bills by candlelight at the kitchen table while she pretended not to hear because she didn’t know how to comfort her. Her dad probably remembers the three vacations he took abroad that year.

Ruben takes her hand under the table, smoothing his thumb across her palm in firm reassuring strokes.

***

It’s the way her dad leans confidingly towards Ruben like Vanessa isn’t there and says “are you two going serious then? The last boy wouldn’t even move in with her, you know.”

“That was a mutual-“ Vanessa begins.

“But you seem like you’ve got good prospects and a good head on your shoulders -“

“I didn’t _want_ to move in with -“

“-so, are you planning to take the next step with my Vanessa?” he asks, talking over her.

She makes a quiet frustrated sound. Something almost undetectable flickers across Ruben’s face.

“Vanessa likes having her own place,” he says, sharply. “Seems like that’s her decision to make.”

“Oh, that’s what she _says_,” her dad chuckles. “You know women, though, they say one thing and what they really mean is -“

“Yeah, I do know women,” Ruben retorts. “Do _you_? It doesn’t sound like you’ve ever interacted with one for more than five minutes.”  
  
Vanessa snorts surprised laughter. Maybe she’s meant to intervene at this point but…well, Ruben with his hackles up is always her favorite show, and there’s something hilarious about him lecturing anyone on social interaction. She sips her wine.

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard,” says Ruben.

Her dad looks outraged, turning to Vanessa and pointing accusingly at Ruben. Ugh. What a fucking _child_.

“Do you pick these men just to bother me? Is that what it is? The kid from the bodega might’ve been a deadbeat but at least he had some manners.”

Vanessa’s hand clenches way too tight around Ruben’s. His does the same. They both wince.

“Usnavi’s _not_ a deadbeat,” says Ruben. “He’s the hardest worker I know. Don’t talk about him like that.”

“He works in a _corner store_. And what’s it to you how I talk about my daughter’s ex?”

You know what? _Fuck_ this. It’s fun to watch Ruben get mad at people Vanessa doesn’t like. It’s no fun to hear someone talk shit about either of her guys.

“I’m dating both of them, actually,” she says a little too loudly. Ruben shrinks at the attention as the people at the next few tables turn to stare at them. She pats his knee apologetically.

“…What?”

“I’m dating both of them, Dad. Ruben _and_ Usnavi. We’re all in a relationship, together. And it’s great, and they’re great, so how about step the hell off?”

Her dad blinks at her. “Please tell me this is a joke, Vanessa.”

Vanessa pulls out her phone and shows him her lockscreen wallpaper (a screenshot of a Snapchat she’d sent to Nina: Vanessa in sunglasses pulling a stupid mouth-open-tongue-out face while over her shoulder Ruben and Usnavi are in a world of their own, foreheads pressed together and tender, joyful looks on both their faces. Three heart emojis as the caption.) and shrugs like _there you have it._ He looks dumbstruck.

“You, but…two of them? And they’re…_together,_ too? Nessa, that’s not _right_, you can’t -“

“I can, and I am.” She folds her arms. Obviously knowing she won’t back down, Dad turns to Ruben instead.

“And what is this for _you_? Some kind of midlife crisis -“

“He’s only twenty-nine, Dad!“

“- or trying to make it seem less gay, or what?”

“_No,” _Ruben snaps, this time not caring when people turn around at the noise. “We’re with Vanessa because she’s _amazing, _and the best woman I’ve ever met and- and she could have two _hundred_ guys love her as much as me and Usnavi do and it still wouldn’t be as much as she deserves!”

Fuck! Did he just- _fuck!_ She stares at Ruben, speechless.

“It isn't the kind of thing my girl should be -“

“She’s not _your_ girl,” Ruben says. “You don’t make her choices and you had nothing to do with how she grew up. That’s all Vanessa. We want her to be happy. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“Ruben,” she finally says, her heart hammering loud loud loud. “It’s okay. We’re leaving now.”

“Nessa, you know I’m just trying to do what’s best -“

“Dad,” she cuts him off. “I will give a shit about your opinions on my life when you’re in it for more than two days out the year, except actually I still won’t because your opinions always suck. And if you can’t wrap your head around the fact that Usnavi and Ruben are both here to stay, don’t even bother with those two days. It really ain't no loss to me. Come on, Ruben."

“Okay,” Ruben says meekly, all his anger gone, and on automatic adds “thanks for dinner” to her dad. Vanessa rolls her eyes.

She manages to keep her cool as they leave, doesn’t trust herself to say much walking down the street, which sets Ruben on edge and he keeps asking if she’s okay before devolving into nervous, poorly-punctuated rambling.

“-know I should’ve let you handle it but it’s just he kept talking over you and he made all those comments about you and Usnavi, and…he made us three sound so _wrong_ but I didn’t actually realize I was gonna yell at him till I was already doing it -“

It starts to sound like he’s going to stress himself into a genuine panic attack, so screw waiting til they get back to hers. Vanessa steers him down the next alleyway they come to, while his babbling falters off in confusion. Now he just looks scared. Her intention is to lead with _don’t worry, I just didn’t want to talk about this in the middle of the street_, but she can’t restrain herself any longer. “You love me?”

“…Huh?” he asks, blindsided.

“In there. You said, two hundred boys who love me as much as you and Usnavi do. Did you mean that?”

He looks at her for a long, long time, and his voice when he speaks is very deliberately measured. “Yes. I love you.”

“You yelled at him. For me.”

“Yes.”

“Because you love me.”

“Yes.”

Ruben grunts in surprise when she throws herself into a kiss so hard he hits the wall behind him, and Vanessa’s glad he’s usually okay for her to play a little rougher than Usnavi does so she doesn’t have to stop and apologize. It’s only sweet and grateful at first, trying to show all the things she doesn’t have the words to tell him, but then she kisses him and kisses him and suddenly they both turn desperate. Vanessa curls her tongue into his mouth and scrapes her nails down his sides, slides her hands onto his hips under his shirt: Ruben draws her in closer, hiking her skirt up so she can press herself right against the growing bulge in his pants, though she’s not quite at the right angle for it to be as satisfying as she wants.

He mouths at her neck and they’re riding into each other hard, almost like fucking if only their clothes weren’t so in the way. God, she could have him right here, unzip his pants and push her underwear to the side and just go at it almost-dressed and dirty in this alleyway. They’re not quite tipsy but they’ve both got just enough of a buzz from the wine that she seriously considers going for it. But Ruben just told her he loves her, and now he’s muffling sounds in her shoulder and wearing too many clothes when what she wants is to see all of him, hear him fall apart under her attention.

“My place. _Now_,” she says, and Ruben nods eagerly. She straightens her skirt then takes his hand again and drags him out the alleyway, both of them running, which ain’t exactly playing it cool but who gives a shit about cool? Ruben _loves_ her.

***

It’s worth slowing down a moment once they’re in Vanessa’s room to appreciate Ruben naked and arranged artfully on her bed, biting his lip. His body shines golden with white-line intersections against the pale blue sheets.

“You’re such a pretty little thing, ain’t you?” Vanessa murmurs, enjoying the way it makes him shiver. “Do I need a heads up on anything?”

“No. Take whatever you want,” he says, as if that’s not one of the hottest things she’s ever gonna hear.

It’s gonna be one of _those_ evenings. Vanessa likes being in charge. Ruben likes letting someone else take the lead. It works out well between them, though it’s a delicate line and still very, very new. Ruben adores being _told_ he’s good, but went ice white and scrambled for his sweater the one time she asked if he was_ going to be good, _spent the rest of the night sat on the bathroom floor shaking and sick. She tries not to think too hard about that. There are things he isn't ready to tell them yet. Straight-up demands and instructions are very risky ground, but he’s real into authoritative requests and suggestions. The pain thing is something they’re still figuring out.

Usnavi’s in between their extremes, can go from blinking up at them from on his knees to gripping Ruben’s hair with his fist on a dime depending on the mood, and she knows Ruben trusts him too (how could anyone not trust Usnavi?). But Usnavi's still a dude, and Ruben can't help it if sometimes his body interprets that as _threat_. There’s still things Ruben only lets Vanessa do, and things that make Usnavi uncomfortable anyway so they save it for when he’s not around.

“You’ll tell me if you need to stop? Red or tap out, yeah?” She doesn’t need to check he remembers every time, probably, but its almost like a password, the question letting them shift gears from everyday Ruben and Vanessa to what they are here.

“I will, I trust you, green,” says Ruben, almost like a chant, same as he does every time. She kisses him deep, and then they're ready.

Things that are just for Ruben and Vanessa, like a hand resting lightly on Ruben’s throat: Usnavi’s hands are gentle and safe, but bigger and broader and even a fleeting touch right here from them makes Ruben flinch. Vanessa’s are small, delicate. She lets her fingers tighten just a tiny bit and she can feel his ragged breath vibrate. Holds, releases, does it again a little tighter this time. Ruben trembles underneath her. It’s not enough to hurt, or even to cut off his air. She knows that she could do it and he’d let her if she wanted: he knows she could do it and she’d stop if he tapped out. Just the suggestion and the knowing is enough. Hold. Release. Repeat. Listen to him breathe, look at his eyelashes flutter and the expressive tilt of his brows.

“I wanna fuck you some day, Ruben,” she says, letting him go for the last time and stroking the exposed line of his neck. “I know how loud you can get when Usnavi’s doin' it to you. I wanna hear how you sound when it’s me. Bet we can find something to work with in that collection of yours.”

“…I didn’t know you knew about that,” he says hoarsely, looking only slightly embarrassed.

“Usnavi’s borrowed underwear off you before, we've seen what’s in that drawer. Or maybe we could buy something special for the occasion. I bet Usnavi would like to watch that. We could take it in turns with you, make it a competition. Who can make you shout their name the loudest?”

“Vanessa,” he groans.

“Not yet,” she says. “There’s better things you could be doin' with that mouth for now.” And she moves to straddle over Ruben’s face while he gazes up at her in wonder.

He’s not as strung high with nerves any more as he was the first few times, but he never stopped getting that _look_: round-eyed amazement, pink dusted across his cheeks. It’s almost too innocent except for the newfound certainty of his fingers as he circles one around her clit, before she tugs it away and lowers herself onto his mouth.

Vanessa’s had some boys with more technically skillful hands but never met anyone who puts so much into someone else’s pleasure as either Ruben or Usnavi. How lucky did she get? Nothing else compares: they both have an enthusiasm that’s somewhere close to worship. Ruben teases gasps out of her, kissing and sucking while he pumps two fingers slightly clumsily in and out, presses his nose against her and she can feel his breath coming stuttered and hot and heavy. She’s overwhelmed by just how much he enjoys this: his feet are scrabbling at the bed, trying to get enough purchase to cant himself upward into a relief he’s not going to find yet. When she backs off a little to make sure he can catch his breath there’s wetness all across his face, smeared across his lips and even droplets on his long eyelashes. He makes a sound of disappointment and pulls her back down to him, opening his mouth hungrily.

God, _fuck_. Vanessa’s supposed to be the one in charge but it’s so hard to keep the act in place when he's doing that, when she feels like this. It’s almost too much to bear, but she grips the headboard tight and rolls her hips, lets the pleasure rise in outward rippling waves closer and closer and when she comes in a flood Ruben pushes his tongue up inside her to catch it, hands stroking softly down her thighs. She’s unsteady when she rises off him and moves back down his body, and Ruben’s eyes are so dark and needy it’s hard to look right at him. There's precome beading on his dick: Vanessa trails her finger then paints it in a vertical line down the center of Ruben’s already shining lips. He darts his tongue out to taste himself. She drags the end of a fingernail just this side of too hard down his length. It pulses under her touch and Ruben twitches as he lets out a juddering breath, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Usnavi’s too soft for this, he really doesn’t like it when Ruben cries. Vanessa knows that sometimes he needs to. “Color?” she asks, just to be sure.

“_Green_,” he says, emphatic, and that’s all. He never really begs for it during these sessions, though she knows he can real nicely. Vanessa’s got the wheel here, he doesn’t try and drive from the backseat. If she chose to leave him sitting like this he wouldn’t say a word. If she left the room completely and came back an hour later, she knows he wouldn’t even have touched himself. They haven’t tried that. She doesn’t like to deny him too much, despite her position. He already knows what it's like to want without reward, Vanessa doesn't need to be another person to teach him that lesson. Not here, not with her.They function in a paradox: he'd let her take everything from him, he’d let her do anything at all, but he only allows it because he knows she never _would_ take everything, never do anything that would hurt him for real, only wants what’s best for him.

“You’ve done so well,” she says. Ruben sobs, nodding gratefully. “I’m gonna let you come.”

“Thank you,” he manages to gasp. “Love you.”

Oh, it almost hurts to hear it. She breathes through the emotion. Takes a condom from the drawer and rolls it on before settling herself onto him, surrounding him, hands on his shoulders to help keep her balance. Ruben makes a feral sound, raspy and low. Can’t seem to stop doing it once he starts, getting louder and louder as she rides him with her hands in his hair and her lips on his jaw.

“Vanessa, Vanessa, am I allowed-” he pants through his tears.

“It’s okay, baby,” she soothes, smoothing his sweaty hair back off his face. “You can let go.”

The end of her sentence is lost under the sound when he moans so forceful it’s nearly a scream. She lets him twist and shatter underneath her, watching the way his eyebrows draw together almost like pain. His whole body goes limp with relief when he’s done.

“Good boy,” she says as he pulls out of her, softening. “You did so good. _You’re_ so good, Ruben.”

Ruben cries hard for another minute or so, face hidden in his hands, and Vanessa keeps up a string of quiet comfort and affirmation while he does. When he starts to calm down she passes him his t-shirt and boxers. He dresses shakily then wraps them both in the sheet, even though it's still barely evening and they’re not sleepy. There’s a catharsis about this that’s like standing under a fall of ice water, cleansing and refreshing but always leaves them both raw. Ruben needs a safe shell to retreat to while he heals himself back over. Vanessa's not unaware of what it means that he lets her in there with him, cocooned in his arms so that she can be safe too.

“Okay?” she asks, and feels him nod.

“Yeah. You?”

“Mmhm." Her body is ringing with the aftershocks of the evening.

Back when she was single, Vanessa learnt to be a shapeshifter: towering tall when she wanted to walk the streets unbothered, but if you wanna take a guy to bed most of them prefer it coy, the hair twisted round one finger and the shy look-down-glance-up thing. Pretend like you’re a tiny lovely creature in a cage, and that it’s only their attention can help you grow big enough to shatter thebars, pretend it’s them and them alone who helped you run pace and growl like a wild and untamed wolf, when really she was the one hunting them all along.

This is what Vanessa likes best about her boys. She never has to pretend anything at all. She can be however big she wants to be and they adapt to what she needs: Ruben small and submissive beneath her, or wrapped all around her like a second, shielding skin; Usnavi pinned by his wrists and pleading, or lifting her off the ground completely with strong arms supporting her whole weight.

She was in charge earlier but now Ruben is the one surrounding her and she doesn’t have to be the wolf, she can be the girl in the forest with her soft heart unprotected from predators. She could offer everything to him, he wouldn’t take it all from her. Every time he breaks her heart - so many times, never his fault - he builds it all back up again with his soft smile and sly sarcasm and the eager, elated look he gets every time he sees them both.

“Hey,” she says, roughly. “I love you too, you know that, right? So fuckin' much.”

“You’re gonna make me cry again,” Ruben warns in a wobbly voice, kissing her shoulder.

“I need you to know,” she insists.

“I do know,” he says. “It’s insane.”

Vanessa can’t disagree with that, but that doesn’t make it any less amazing.


	3. Chapter 3

It was pretty easy with Vanessa for Ruben to tell her that he loved her, primarily because it happened entirely by accident. Now he’s got a problem, because Ruben has said it to Vanessa, and Vanessa has said it to Ruben, and _Usnavi_ has said it to Ruben, and obviously Usnavi and Vanessa have loved each other for years, and now there’s one link missing and Ruben does not know what to do.  
  
Not that the problem is Usnavi, nor Ruben’s feelings for him. God, of course not. The only reason he didn’t tell him out loud straight away is because Ruben didn’t want his first time saying it to either of them to just be a bounced-back _I love you too_. He wanted it to stand on its own, so that they knew for real he meant it and wasn’t just saying it as The Socially Acceptable Response.

So now he’s had too much time to think about it, which is never a good sign. He wants it to be perfect. It was perfect with Vanessa without meaning to be, somehow, unintentionally dropped in the middle of calling out her jerk of a dad, though it’d be hard to explain why that works to anyone who doesn’t get Vanessa. But he doesn’t know how to tell Usnavi. He doesn’t even know _where_ to tell him. The bodega where their whole thing got started, Usnavi’s living room where they had their first proper kiss, his bedroom. They’ve left a trail of sentimental little moments all around the Heights. Which one’s the best to call back to?

And the thing is too that Ruben isn’t smooth, or charming. He doesn’t sweep people off their feet. The second he goes to say it he gives himself just a second too long, so he can feel the words congeal to something stilted and awkward before they have a chance to come out. It’d end up that tone that sounds like he's insincere when really it’s just he’s got too _many_ feelings to know which one to plug his voice into.

Vanessa keeps suggesting things like skywriting or tattooing it on his knuckles or tagging it on the bodega wall, because she’s a pain in the ass and no help whatsoever. Ruben’s made her swear not to mention that they’ve said it to each other yet: he doesn’t want Usnavi to think that he matters less than Vanessa, when it’s only taking Ruben so long because he’s paralysed by indecision.

He’s pondering hard on it wandering down the street and his head sort of hurts from thinking in circles, so it’s nice to bump into Benny for a break from his own thinking. “Hi, Benny.”  
  
“Ruben! Aite, man, how’s it goin'?” Benny holds up a fist and beams with delight when Ruben awkwardly bumps his own against it. It’s about the upper limit of how comfortable he is with touching people who aren’t Usnavi or Vanessa, but it makes him feel good to know that even this is something that was unthinkable to him once. Look at all the things that catch him by surprise daily.

They’re only talking for half a minute when something familiar: Usnavi, almost flying completely past them in a hurry before he catches sight and doubles back, face illuminated by affection.

“Guys!” he half-shouts, far more overjoyed than necessary considering he saw them both that morning. He nods his head at Benny and then settles his gaze on Ruben.

“Hey there,” he says.

“Hey,” says Ruben, and feels his cheeks heating up for no reason. That’s so stupid. It’s been _months_ since they started seeing each other, he should be past the blushing stage.

“Hey,” says Usnavi, for a second time. His eyes are all happy at the edges. It does weird things to Ruben in a part of him that exists somewhere far deeper than his body.

“I remember when I used to be your favorite,” says Benny, thankfully before Ruben does something like say _hey_ again and Usnavi startles with a laugh.

“Fuck, sorry, man, you know how it is. And I can’t hang around, so I’ll see you both later, maybe?” He half-hugs Benny, he kisses Ruben on the cheek before turning to leave, and it’s a de ja vu that sets off a chain reaction. Ruben’s body floods with the memory of every tiny forward movement that took him towards loving them with all his broken, healing heart, and how Usnavi with no patience who can never sit still has stopped to wait for him to be ready at every single step.

It bursts out of Ruben’s mouth completely by accident, pretty much yelling it as Usnavi heads off down the street again. “Hey, I love you!”

Usnavi stops and turns around. “Who, me?”

“No, I was talking to Benny,” says Ruben. “We’ve been dating for weeks, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. _Yes_, you.”

“Wow, I got a sudden need to go be literally anywhere else right now,” says Benny, and he does exactly that.

Ruben distantly makes a mental note to feel bad about neither of them saying goodbye to him later, but right now he’s distracted. Usnavi’s come up close, stands just looking at him with a dumbstruck happy look for so long that Ruben feels himself actually _giggle. Jesus Christ, Marcado, get a grip_. He hides behind one hand. “Stop staring at me!”

“No,” says Usnavi, catching and suppressing a smile before it has chance to break out proper. As promised, he does not stop staring. Ruben pushes him lightly in the chest; Usnavi grabs both his hands and holds onto them.

“Don’t you have a bodega to get back to?” Ruben grumbles, unconvincingly.

“Fuck the bodega, you love me!” exclaims Usnavi. The threatened grin finally takes over: god, he’s too, too beautiful, and then he starts laughing which only makes it worse. “Holy shit! You _love_ me.”

This seems familiar, too.

“Yes,” says Ruben, full of light. “I really do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me extremely happy and encourage me to write more!  
Come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://thisstableground.tumblr.com/)!


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